


The Wolven Storm

by Alien_Duck, Two_Bitts



Category: The Witcher, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Rutting, courting gifts, inconvent rut, rutt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28627494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alien_Duck/pseuds/Alien_Duck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_Bitts/pseuds/Two_Bitts
Summary: Life traveling with a Witcher can get complicated. Sometimes you don't realize when the friendship stops, and other feelings begin.Thank you so much to Alien_Duck, for editing chapter one for me!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 110





	The Wolven Storm

"Toss a coin to your Witcher, Oh valley of plenty, oh valley of plenty."  
The unfamiliar bard sang off key and in a tone that almost made Geralt wince. The damn tune followed him everywhere. It was like Jaskier was still bothering him, even when he wasn't there to do so in person. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the bard for a couple months.  
He groaned, done with hearing the less than stellar music, and slammed coin down on the bar table, paying for his evening meal and his room for the next week. The barkeep pocketed the coin, and Geralt stood, trying to block the warbling coming from the stage. He didn't know how anyone could sing worse than Jaskier. Pie with no filling.  
He marched into his room, making sure it was securely locked before starting to strip off his armor. Small bundles of herbs fell off with the plates, as they were freed from the places they were jammed into. He rummaged through his pack, finding his bittering potion and downing it. It couldn't stop a Witcher rut entirely, but it did make it shorter and more bearable, almost to the level of a human rut. He kicked the herb pouches towards the door to block any scent of his rut that would leak out the cracks, settled himself on the bed, and resigned himself for an uncomfortable few days.

* * *

It had been a struggle to get the other bard off-stage, that was sure enough. But Jaskier had clearly been the superior musician, and the other had already been at the tavern for some time. The other glowered at him off stage, but he just smiled and strummed, doing what he did best. The town was clearly doing reasonably well for itself, judging from Jaskier's tips. The fields were all lush and green, and people were eager to part with coin. He performed for a few hours, finding himself reasonably well-off for only a day in the town. He ate his supper, and rented a room, happily falling asleep with a coin pouch that was heavier than usual.  
The next day he performed on the streets, wandering and telling people where he'd be in the evening. He set himself up in the bustling market for the afternoon, and perused some of the wears once he had sung for as long as he could. The market had fine jewelry, and clothes imported from larger cities, as well as the local produce, fresh and shiny. He'd even been able to find a woman selling the suppressant herbs he needed to keep unwanted attention away. The large farming towns were always great places to be when harvests were good. Maybe he'd stick around for a week or two.  
He returned in the late afternoon to the tavern, and got ready to perform upon the raised platform there. He had a new song about the white wolf himself that he wanted to test out, it'd been finished on his way to the town. He paid the bartender for an early dinner, eating early so he could perform when most other folk were sat to dine. Clearing his throat, he walked up, onto the slightly raised platform, and began to play as the sun began to dip and touch the horizon.  
The crowd began to swell as he performed, his trip to the market clearly paying off. The new song went down a treat, and he'd even been able to slip some jabs in at Geralt into the lyrics. He performed until the wee hours of the morning, when folks finally had to call it a night and go home. Jaskier collapsed onto a bar seat, deciding to take tomorrow a little easier on himself. A bowl of supper was slid over to him by the barkeep, with a mug of ale. When Jaskeir went to pay, the keep shook his head.  
"I 'aven't had patrons stick around and spend their coin like that in a while. 'is one's on the house. You live up to your reputation lad." Jaskier thanked him, and happily began to chow down. There were only one or two people left in the pub proper, and it looked like they were going to shut soon.  
"So you 'ere with 'im then?" The barkeep asked.  
"Sorry, who?"  
"Yer white wolf of course. The Witcher. Got a room 'ere a few hours before you did yes’erday."  
Jaskier had no clue. "Oh, of course! I've been waiting for him, I had no clue he got here first. Which room is he in?"

"Geralt!" Jaskeir yelled, standing by the door, "You in there?" He heard movement inside, and the door cracked open.  
"Jaskier," A familiar low gravelly voice met him.  
"Fancy that, it is you. The bartender told me you haven't been down in a day or two. Are you hurt or something?"  
"Hn." It wasn't like Geralt to stay in a town and not leave the tavern. The brothels, maybe. Jaskier pushed the door open with his hip, holding two plates in his hands, and waltzed in.  
"I bring food." Jaskeir stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the room, frozen. He inhaled deeply, and felt his legs almost buckle. Rutt. "Oh."  
He looked up at Geralt, who he could now see. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his amber eyes made it obvious how dilated his pupils were. Jaskier set Geralt's plate down, and started to slowly back out of the room, Geralt walking forward towards him with every step he took back.  
"I'll be a couple days." Geralt rumbled, almost chest to chest with Jaskier. The sound of an Alpha very audible in his voice. Jaskier's knees felt weak as he nodded, and the door shut. Fucking hell. Geralt probably didn't know Jaskier was even an Omega, he'd been pretty meticulous in ensuring he always had the suppressants he needed. And it's not like the pair went shopping together. Jaskier stumbled back to his room, light headed and knees wobbly, his prick so obviously painfully hard.

* * *

Jaskier opened his herb pouch, ready to make his usual morning tea. The regular pheromone suppressants that made him register as a particularly bland smelling beta each day. His heat suppressants were in his pack, an entirely different group of herbs that tasted something foul. He stopped and sighed, looking down at the bag of herbs. Geralt didn't have a rut partner. He hadn't gotten a prostitute, and he wasn't leaving his room. Jaskier sighed again. He was a fucking idiot. He bit his lip down, and thought for a moment, before closing the bag of herbs, and turning around and leaving his room, ready to make a bee-line for the market.

"Knock knock Geralt." He heard shuffling behind the door, and it cracked open.  
"Hn?" Jaskier saw one eye at the door, the pupil still obviously dilated. "I bring breakfast, let me in." He also brought a side bag full of optional extras, but that was besides the point. The door opened to let him in, and he braced himself as he entered. Jaskeier tried to keep his breathing even as he stood in the rut-scented room. His own scent was still weak as it had been masked for so long, but the Witcher's nose was sensitive, and this was an enclosed space. It wouldn't take long for Geralt to smell him.  
He handed Geralt a plate laden with bread, cheese, fruit, and cold meats, and a large pitcher of water. It would be enough for breakfast for two, and snacks throughout the day. The room was kept dark, but Geralt was clearly shirtless, his skin flushed and shiny with sweat.  
"You're clearly rutting." Jaskier said. Geralt said nothing to the statement, placing the plate down on a side table, and beginning to eat from it as he sat on the bed. "Geralt, why don't you have a partner for rut?" Geralt was silent for a moment, before turning to Jaskier  
"Hn."  
Jaskier sighed. "Geralt."  
"Not enough gold in the world to make someone lay with a rutting Witcher. I'm fine."  
"Are you?" Jaskier asked, struggling to keep a level head between Geralt's smell and his voice. It had a raw edge to it, that it didn't usually. Geralt sighed  
"Took a potion. Made the rut… less severe." Jaskier laughed, and came to sit beside the Witcher, looking him in the eyes. Any second now.  
"Looks like a regular rut to me," he said.  
"Regular human rut. Yes. Not like a Witchers." Jaskier saw Geralt’s nose flare. His eyes met Jaskier’s and it looked like every muscle in Geralt’s body tensed.  
"Jaskier, why do you smell like an Omega."  
"I didn't drink my tea this morning. Honestly I didn't realize you might not have known what I was." Geralt’s nose flared as he inhaled the smell around him.  
"You're an Omega?" He hissed  
"Yep. Always have been. It's a bit dangerous to travel smelling like a stray Omega, and the heats are a pain in the arse, so I normally cover it up".  
"Jaskier," Geralt hissed. "What are you doing."  
Jaskier sighed, and looked at Geralt  
"Trying to help. I trust you Geralt. And besides, what's a little rut between friends." He winked with a laugh. Geralt looked speechless, which wasn't really new, as he didn't talk much anyways.  
Geralt stayed frozen as Jaskier began to unpack his side satchel, taking out oils and various cloths and the like. He looked up at Geralt, who was clearly still trying to breathe Jaskier’s smell as deeply as he could. "What do you say?"  
In a flash, Geralt had Jaskier picked up and flipped onto the bed, the Alpha’s nose buried in his neck where his scent gland was.

Geralt began to make a deep rumbling noise in his chest, his hands clawing at Jaskier’s clothes.  
"Off," he practically growled, and Jaskier complied, doing his best to strip with the Witcher still above him.  
Geralt was certainly… different like this, and while Jaskier had gotten used to Geralt's unnatural eyes, his blown pupils made him look like another beast entirely. He managed to wiggle out of his shirt, and roll his pants down, before Jaskier grabbed at the Witcher's pants, pulling them down, his enlarged Alpha cock springing out, free from the confines of his pants.  
Geralt finally pulled his nose out from Jaskier’s neck, grabbing at one of the oils Jaskier had brought with him. He hastily poured it over his fingers, and Jaskier's hole, and his own cock. Jaskier watched, surprised at how obvious it was that this was not Geralt’s first time with another man. The Witcher rubbed at his entrance, before pushing a finger tip in.  
He slowly sunk it in fully, pushing in and out. Jaskier squirmed, more sensitive to things in his ass due to being an Omega. Geralt went surprisingly slow for a rutting Alpha, which surprised Jaskier. He apricated Geralt not trying to fuck him dry and with no prep, as some Alphas would. One finger quickly became two pushing and curling in him, and then three, and Jaskier clamped his mouth shut, trying to not show his discomfort at the speed of Geralt’s additions. Geralt gave him a few more pumps, before pulling his fingers out. Jaskier looked up at Geralt, and they locked eyes.  
"Are you sure?" Geralt rasped, grabbing his cock.  
"I really am quite sure Geralt" Jaskier said, eying the sheer size of him. This would be a stretch.  
Geralt lined up with Jaskier’s barely stretched hole, and placed his arms on either side of Jaskier’s head, grabbing one of his forearms, as Jaskier’s legs wrapped around his bare waist. They both leaned into each others necks, breathing deeply. Jaskier barely held back a noise from the smell of Geralt, his cock so very hard from the Witcher’s smell and fingers.  
Geralt began to push into Jasker, the bard unable to stop himself from crying out. He grabbed onto Geralt’s back with his free arm, as he felt the inches slide into him. Geralt's half blown knot stopped at his rim, before it was also slowly pressed into Jaskier, making the bard almost scream out.  
Geralt stilled, and Jaskier was given a moment to try an adjust to the large cock filling him. How full he was. He panted loudly, as pain and discomfort turned into please, as his body adjusted. He kept trying to catch a breath he couldn't seem to.  
"A-Alpha," he whined.  
Geralt growled into his neck, making Jaskier's own cock twitch. Geralt began to move, pulling back out slowly, his knot popping out of Jaskier, and then pushing back into him.  
Jaskier keened, unable to even think straight with the smell of the rut, and Geralt's touch, and the feeling of his cock making him so, so full. So full. Geralt continued to slowly pump into Jaskier, before picking up pace. Jaskier cried out, his hand digging into the Witcher's back.  
"Fuck! Alpha. Alpha. Please."  
He'd never been so full. At the sound of being called Alpha, Geralt seemed to pick up the pace even faster, plowing into the writhing bard. Geralt shifted his hips slightly, and Jaskier nearly screamed.  
"Alpha! Right there, please, oh god Alpha please."  
He continued babbling, not trying to stop the moans and noises tumbling from his mouth. Geralt kept the angle, ramming into Jaskier and stimulating his prostate. Jaskier glanced down to see his stomach a mess of pre-cum, Geralt’s knot visible every time he pulled out of the bard.  
Jaskier’s hand reached down to his own cock, and he buried his head into Geralt’s neck, his moaning now somewhat muffled, and inhaled deeply. He barely had to even touch himself before it was enough to send him over the edge.  
He came, crying out for Geralt, who continued to fuck Jaskier through his orgasm, his hole tightening, and Geralt's knot became incredibly obvious to the bard as it was forced in and out of him.  
Geralt began to grunt as he did so, and Jaskier leaned up to his ear, knowing what would likely set him off.  
"Alpha please," he whispered. "Fill your Omega."  
The effect was immediate. Geralt bared his teeth at Jaskier's neck, and pushed into him once more, crying out as he did so. Jaskier felt his insides warm, and the pressure on his hole increased as Geralt's knot swelled to full size. The pair laid down still locked, panting and slowly calming down.  
"Jaskier I could have hurt you." Geralt said, his head tucked into Jaskier’s neck.  
"But you didn't." Jaskier paused to gather his thoughts. “I really do trust you Geralt. I've seen you fight monsters, full of adrenaline and potions, and fighting with everything you've got, and you're still precise and careful."  
"Hn." Geralt grunted. Jaskier flushed, remembering what he'd just said earlier.  
"That stuff about being your Omega-"  
"Heat of the moment. Don't worry Jask."  
"Y-yeah," he agreed. They lay for a few minutes more, before Geralt softened a bit, and they were able to separate. Jaskier cleaned himself up, trying to hide the bruise Geralt left on his forearm. On the bright side, Geralt was looking a lot better- they'd probably only need to fuck for most of the day. He watched as Geralt took off his pants the rest of the way, and cleaned up too, and the pair were left naked, save for Geralt's wolf pendant.  
"You were already halfway through your rutt it looks like," Jaskier commented. He walked back to the bed, and winced only slightly as he sat down, helping himself to the breakfast platter and water. "Give me a moment and I'll be ready again."  
"Jaskier-'' Geralt started.  
"I'm okay with it Geralt. I really am." Geralt clenched his jaw.  
"I don't have any gifts for afterward."  
"Why would you give me gifts Geralt? I wasn't aware you were trying to court me." Jaskier said, smiling. Geralt looked confused, before a wave of realization hit him  
"Hn." was all he could manage. Jaskier chuckled. He finished his glass of water, and turned to the Alpha standing at the bottom of the bed. Jaskier crawled to him, before getting up on his knees.  
He closed his eyes and leaned in to Geralt, savoring the smell of rut. He snaked his hands down Geralt's body feeling the muscles and scar tissue. He grabbed onto Geralt’s hardened cock, and began to slowly jerk him off, running his hand up and down his length, wiping his tip with his thumb.  
Geralt clenched his jaw, and placed his hands on Jaskier's shoulders. Jaskier watched Geralt, studying the White Wolf as he failed to keep his eyes trained on anything. His lids were half shut, and judging from his clenched jaw, he was doing his best to stay silent.  
Jaskier grinned. He loved a challenge.  
He picked up the pace, using both hands now, and taking care to get his knot and tip in every stroke. It seemed to be having the desired effect, as Geralt started grunting through his teeth. Geralt’s hands gripped tighter into Jaskier's shoulders, probably leaving bruises.  
"Hn," he grunted. "Close."  
Jaskier picked up the pace, watching the Witcher's face tense up. With a grunt, Geralt spilt again, cumming over Jaskier's chest. Jaskier kept his hands tight over Geralt's hard cock and fat knot, trying to simulate a lock as best as he could. Geralt rested his head on Jaskiers, the pair staying mostly still, till Geralt's knot softened. His cock was still hard, standing to attention on his lower abdomen.  
Jaskier stood up, off the bed and walked back over to his supplies, grabbing more oil out of the bag on the table, and wiping down his chest. He straightened up, only to bump into a Witcher, standing right behind him.  
Geralt wrapped his arms around the bard, holding him close. He buried his head in Jaskier's neck, and Jaskier froze as he felt tender kisses being dotted over his scent gland. Geralt began to make that deep rumble again, and Jasker's legs felt like jelly.  
"Omega." Geralt whispered in his ear.  
"A-Alpha?" Jaskier felt teeth press against his neck over his scent gland for a moment, ready to bite down and mate him, before Geralt suddenly stepped away.  
"Fuck. Jask- I, I'm sor-"  
"Hey." Jaskier cut him off, turning around and holding onto his arm. "It's okay. Nothing happened. Okay?"  
Geralt seemed shaken up, and knowing Geralt, Jaskier couldn't tell if it had been the kisses, or the almost mating bite that freaked him out more.  
"I'm okay," he repeated, "So why don't you come over here and fuck me Alpha?"  
Geralt still looked conflicted. Jaskier sighed, putting the oil in Geralt's hands. He took a step back, and at the same time Geralt took a step forward. Another step back, and another, and he was falling back onto the bed. Jaskier rolled over and pulled his knees up, presenting his ass to Geralt. The bard didn't have the same kind of hearing as a Witcher, but he could still hear how Geralt's breathing picked up. He felt oil being rubbed on his asshole again, and heard Geralt sigh as he presumably oiled his own cock up, and then he was lining up at Jaskier's entrance, and grabbing at his hips, and pushing in again.

* * *

Geralt woke up gently, feeling satisfied and warm. That wasn't right. He inhaled, and opened his eyes to look at Jaskier, who he was currently spooning from behind. They were both very naked, and covered in dried sweat and… other things. He gently pulled back, trying to get up without waking up Jaskier. He'd managed to keep up with a Witcher last night, and while Geralt's rut had been muted by the potion, it was still a feat in itself. Though the effort had probably worn him out too all hell.  
Geralt felt himself slowly start to get angry at the bard's foolishness. He gently pushed himself off the bed, finding his clothes on the floor. He felt normal again, the ability to lock with an Omega at least fooling his body into thinking it had mated. Geralt cracked the window of the room open, letting the air finally begin to freshen up. He probably still smelt awful, but he went downstairs regardless and requested a hot bath for them. And those damned scented soaps Jaskier was so fond of.

He sat at the edge of the bed as the tub was filled by the lady of the establishment, bringing up buckets of hot water. Geralt hadn't paid enough attention to notice he'd had a stray Omega with him on the path. How had he been that dumb? At least he understood why Jaskier drank tea every morning, but refused it at every other time.  
He thought to the moment he almost bit Jaskier. It had been far too close for comfort, and yet Jaskier didn't even bat an eye, like he didn't even care if Geralt had bitten him. He sighed. The bath had been drawn, the lady of the establishment gone.  
He turned and looked towards Jasker, who was sound asleep. He moved to be seated beside him, and put his hand on his shoulder, noticing the bruises on them the same shape as his hand. Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, swearing under his breath. He settled on shaking him by his lower forearm gently, rousing the man.  
"Jaskier."  
"Mmm?" the bard woke up gently, before wincing "Owwww…"   
Geralt sighed looking down at him  
"What were you thinking."  
"I was thinking you'd be grateful. Y'know, something like 'Wow Jaskier, thank you for the full day of amazing sex that saved me from several more days of agony’." Jaskier mocked him in a gravely tone, far too deep for the bard to actually pull off. "’I really appreciate that you shared your secret with me, and then helped me out, even when you could've been out making money’."  
Geralt sighed. He pulled the blankets of the naked bard, and taking care to avoid anywhere bruised, scooped Jaskier up. The bard immediately protested, before realizing where Geralt was taking him. Jaskier seemed to relax as Geralt dropped him gently into the water.  
"Clean off." Geralt said. "I got you your fancy soap."  
As Jaskier bathed, Geralt took some time to organize his armor, his pack, and throw away the now mostly useless herb pouches. By the time of his next rut they'd be ineffective, so why keep them? He made himself busy till Jaskier had had his fill of bathing, and emerged from the tub smelling of flowers and soap… and Omega. Geralt tried to ignore the new smell coming from Jaskier, stripping off his clothes and climbing into the tub himself.  
"So why are you here?" Jaskier asked as Geralt began to scrub.  
"Rut." Seemed like a nice but quiet town to hide in for his Rut. "Booked the week."  
"And now here you are, with three days left already paid for, and no more rut to worry about. I don't think taverns normally do refunds. So what's next. Should I ask around for a beast for you to slay?" Geralt turned his head sharply to look at Jaskier. Though Jaskier was thankfully now wearing pants, Geralt tried not to react to the sight of his bruised torso.  
"You, are staying here. Resting." Jaskier pouted at Geralt. Fuck, Geralt should have just sent him away yesterday. He snuck a glance at the bruises again, clenching his jaw. Fuck. He hastily finished cleaning, donning his clothes and amour. He looked back at Jaskier.  
"Resting." and walked out.

* * *

Jaskier thankfully managed to grab a padded chair to sit in for the day. As soon as Geralt had left, he'd donned some comfortable looser clothes that covered the important bits, like the bruise on one of his forearms and the bruises on his shoulders, and the ones on his hips and… Well, he was well covered. He'd slowly made his way to his own room, taken his tea, doused himself in perfume, and grabbed his lute.  
Jaskier made his way to the stage in the bar area, setting his lute on his lap and finding a position that was the most comfortable, and played. Slower songs, songs that didn't require a large amount of attention, or for him to move around and excite the listeners. Jaskier played for hours, keeping an eye on the tavern door. He assumed Geralt had found work since he'd been gone so long, and since Jaskier couldn't come with him, he wanted all the juicy details the Witcher would give him.  
He made a decent enough amount off the day, though that may have to do with the fact that he didn't really leave the stage. Moving was for only when strictly necessary. The sun set, and the evening patrons came and made merry, and drank and ate listening to Jaskier play. The tavern slowly began to empty, the night crawling closer to being the point where evening technically ended. Jaskier plucked at his strings, before clearing his throat. Right. Bed time. He slowly stood from his seat, his bruises aching, and joints sore. He scooped up his coin, bought supper, and took it to his room. He dined, and resigned himself to a night of rest.

The next morning he felt significantly better. He drank his tea, dressed a little more ostentatiously, and settled town at the front of the tavern one more. This time with more vigor, and the promise of the ability to freely wander for things like lunch. He sang louder, and played more complex tunes, and kept an eye on the door. Maybe he’d try to drum up a little good will towards Witchers in the town.

* * *

 _Why would you give me gifts Geralt? I wasn't aware you were trying to court me._  
Jaskier's words ate at Geralt's chest as he clenched a handful of rocks. Sure, Jaskier had only laid with him as a favor, as a friend. But laying with an Omega- during a rut no less,-required some sort of gift. Even from the world's worst Alpha, which Geralt guessed he was. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but bathing after Jaskier had covered him in the bard’s scent, so while he was hunting, he was also keenly aware that he smelt like Jaskier. The tantalizing scent of Omega still clinging to him.  
He sat perfectly still, watching the forest from his perch on a branch. His silver sword was oiled, and Yrden sign trap set. He threw two of the stones from his hand, one after another, into the trap. He threw another two, and then another, trying to replicate footfall.  
He heard ever so quiet scraping at the dirt, before a giant centipede burst from the ground. Dirt and rock launched into the air, and the trap sprung as Geralt launched himself forward off his branch. He dropped down right in front of the beast, using it's paralyzed state to land several blows. He jammed his silver sword between two of it's softer gut plates, felling the tip ever so slightly push into the armor chink and he wrenched it down. The centipede screeched, and he felt Yrden begin to shake as it fought the sign with new ferocity. Fuck.  
Geralt plunged his sword into the gap, as the Yrden sign broke. The centipede screeched again, and began to thrash, as Geralt grabbed it's back. It flailed, trying to pull the Witcher to it's front -where it could hold him steady and poison him with the bite from its mandibles.  
Geralt held steady, gripping the still embedded blade. The centipede pulled the rest of it's 12 feet of length out from the ground, and slammed it's tail into Geralt's back. The impact knocked the air out of him, as he fell from the creature. Fuck.  
Immediately, the tail was on him once more, wrapping his legs. The rest of the centipede began to wrap around him, making its way up his torso. Geralt began to thrash, trying to loosen its grip on his legs, till he saw a flash of ichor, and silver. He reached a free arm out, and grabbed at the sword hilt as it whipped by. He dragged the blade through as much of the centipede as he could, wrenching it out of the centipede. Screeching filled the forest once more, as the centipede loosened its grip and coiled into a spiral.  
He saw the patch of exposed flesh, where the chitin panel he'd pulled off once protected. It wasn't too far from the mouth of the beast. Geralt backed up, and the centipede loosened it's protective position. It unraveled, before scurrying towards the Witcher, carried on hundreds of jagged legs. As it reached him, it pulled it's mandibles up and began to spew acid forwards, but Geralt was already side stepping the stream and dashing forwards, carefully evading its pincers. It rolled to its side, ready to try and wrap the Witcher again, but he darted closer to it. He reached down low, and stabbed through the gap in its belly, reaching the blade as far down through the centipede as he could. The creature screeched, the swords oil and silver burning it. Geralt stepped away, as the centipede thrashed, and then stilled, the tip of the sword poking out from between its jaws.  
He watched it for several minutes, before withdrawing his sword, and wiping it down. He pulled out vials and bottles, and fabric rolls he'd been sent for this creature with, and got to work. Venom, blood, chitin, mandibles. He stripped the creature of the parts he'd been sent for, and for parts he could otherwise sell or use. Geralt wrapped it all up, and packed it in a pack. He breathed deeply, trying to center himself, but it was no use. After everything, he could still smell Jaskier, even if it was a touch fainter under the stench of the monster.  
Roach was only a short walk away, tied to a point on the nearest path. Geralt felt his body ache from how he had been slammed as he walked towards his horse. The impact surely would have easily broken something in an ordinary man. He approached Roach, putting her on the head, and swinging the pack of giant centipede parts on her. He untied her, and hauled himself up, grunting in pain as he did so. He turned Roach on the street, and began riding towards town as the sun began to peak up above the horizon.

The sun was up, and the town was beginning to stir as Geralt knocked on the alchemist's door. It opened a crack, and then fully, as the woman saw who it was. He walked in to the building as she walked away from the door. Geralt dodged the bundles of herbs hung from the ceiling, doing his best to keep his hair from tangling in the branches. Various animal parts, and brewed drinks filled jars that sat on the dozens of shelves around the room.  
"You have what you were sent for?"  
"In the bag." Geralt placed it on the counter, where he spied a bag of coin already waiting. The alchemist opened the bag, and began pulling out the various requested elements. She went through each one, before replacing them all. She picked up the coin pouch, and tossed it towards Geralt.  
“I may have more work, in a few weeks.”  
He nodded, picking up the bag, and walked out.

The market was surprisingly busy for just after dawn, full of people offering finer items, transported from around the country, on top of the more local creations. Finer things were not an unknown thing in larger farming towns, but certainly only possible when havests were good. Geralt had gotten lucky.  
 _Why would you give me gifts Geralt? I wasn't aware you were trying to court me._  
Damn it, Geralt may be a shit Alpha, but he could at least get Jaskier something. Not that he was courting him. Geralt looked over the things on display, trying to figure out what Jaskier might appreciate.  
Traditional gifts were often items like jewelry, artworks, carved boxes, and items made by the Alpha. For larger gifts, when couples were serious (or rich), ornate weapons could be gifted- fine daggers, not made for real combat. The things that Geralt knew Jaskier liked, scented oils, soaps, and fine wines, weren’t going to be appropriate. Clothes were an option, but they would not stand up to life around a Witcher.  
He walked through the market, deciding to keep an eye out for a blacksmith, or silversmith. Maybe a nicer piece of armour would work. It would last Jaskier a long time, and it was practical. Might even save his life one day. But there was a reason Jaskier hadn’t gotten armour, he hated it. It would have to be leather, and beautiful. Geralt doubted he’d find anything finely made enough for the bard here.  
He breathed in deeply, the scent of the Omega still clinging to him. He’d need another bath to get rid of it. Eventually, a little way down the main market square, Geralt did find the stores he was after. The blacksmith did cater more to agricultural needs, though he did have several weapons, all perfectly fine. He spared no effort in bringing them to Geralt’s attention, though the witcher was uninterested in them. He looked around the various other items the smith had, but he knew with a sinking feeling none of them were for Jaskier.  
He turned away, determined to find something in the damned town. He looked through a clothing store, feeling far too large and dirty for a store that sold the finer cloths Jaskier truly appreciated. Why did that damn bard have to have such damn fancy taste.  
The silversmith seemed to eye him as he approached, chest puffed out proudly. The Witcher looked through his selection, seeing chains and rings, some patterned, some plain, some with various stones embedded in them. Nothing that seemed right. He’d never seen Jaskier wear anything like what was on display. Maybe a thin chain would suit him, but would it need a pendant?  
“Hn.” Geralt was not good at this. The smith cleared his throat, still standing proudly.  
“Mr Witcher! I recognise you from your songs.” Geralt sighed. That damned bard. “If you are looking for something stylish to add to your ensemble, might I show you something I made you may find of interest?”  
Geralt really felt like he probably didn’t have a choice at this point, but whatever.  
“Sure.” The silversmith immediately turned around to grab at something behind him.  
“I really do think you’ll like it Mr Witcher, I made it after hearing about one of your tales. The white wolf, with glowing orange eyes! Oh, how it captured my attention.”  
Geralt grew more uncomfortable as the man spoke.  
”You see-” The man grabbed what looked like a polishing pad, and shone something in his hand. “I had this tiniest shard of Amber, and I didn’t know how to use it.”  
He turned around, holding a smallish hoop earring that had a silver wolf’s head dangling from it, the size of a thumbnail. The metal shone almost white, and in the morning sun Geralt could see the tiny piece of amber in the eye. “Made in your image good sir!”  
“May I?” Geralt extended his arm out, asking to look at the item. The smith handed it over, and Geralt rolled it around in his fingers. It was frankly, a bit much for a friend he wasn’t courting. But it was perfect in every other way. Fuck. He sighed, ”How much?”  
“For you Mr Witcher? Who I made this piece for, and had the good luck to meet before someone else bought it? I’m sure I could give you a discount.” Something about the man's smile did not make Geralt think he was getting much of a discount at all.

* * *

Jaskier happily dug his spoon into the house rabbit pot pie, dunking pastry into the gravy beneath. Well-off towns made for well-off bards. Hopefully Geralt was finding the town profitable as well, or at the very least amenable. He dug into his pie and ale, glad to give his voice a rest.  
“The white wolf!” A day-drunk voice could be heard, from just outside the tavern. “Your bard has been singing your songs.” Jaskier waved down the barkeeper, asking for another pie and ale. It got set down for him moments after Geralt sat next to him.  
“Remind me why I let you write songs about me?” Geralt grumbled.  
“Better annoyed at people thinking you’re interesting, then annoyed at people trying to run you out of town.” Jaskier slid the second ale and pie over to Geralt. “Or don’t you appreciate how I’ve drastically improved your life?”   
Geralt sighed, digging into the pie.  
“Fine, I concede happy drunkards are better then angry ones.” Jaskier ginned smugly at him. “I know you said I didn’t need to get a gift for you- and I do promise, I’m not trying to court you now I know your an-”   
Jaskier opened his mouth to say something-anything to cut Geralt off, but he cut himself off.   
“Sorry. Now I know your… persuasion. I’d leave it at that if it was any roll in the hay, but you bared with me- bared with a Witcher, through a rut. Which was a fucking dumb idea,” he paused, taking a swallow of ale.  
“I’d say any lay with me is more than a roll in the hay, but sure.”   
Jaskier scoffed, but Geralt ignored him.  
“But it’s definitely not nothing to do. I’d hoped for something more practical, and less traditional, but it seemed… fitting.” Geralt grabbed the pouch out of his pocket, and slid it across the table.  
“Ooooh!” Jaskier excitedly reached for the pouch, pulling it open. He gently shook the contents out, onto his palm.   
“Geralt.” Jaskier held the earring in his hand, dangling it in front of his face. A wolf head, made of white metal, with an orange eye. “Geralt is that citrine?”  
“Silver and amber, if you must know.”  
“It must have cost almost as much as you spend on Roach.” Jaskier nudged Geralt with his elbow, grinning.  
“The shopkeeper was amenable.”  
‘It’s a white wolf," Jaskier said, matter of factly. “It’s you.” Geralt shifted out of the corner of his eye.  
“If it’s too much I-”  
“Geralt, it's amazing.” Jaskier however, didn’t have a piercing. He kept his mouth shut however, finishing the last bit of his meal in the same time Geralt devoured his own. Jaskier looked down at the earring in his hand. Despite what Geralt said, it really did look like a courting gift. It was practically a signpost screaming ‘Geralt was here’. He could probably get away with it though, the white wolf was what he was known for. He looked at Geralt, and scrunched his nose. “You have dirt in your hair.”  
“I do need a bath.”  
“Geralt are you agreeing with me about actually bathing? Are you-are you okay?”  
”Hn.” Ah yes, the classic response.

* * *

Jaskier hissed, his ear stinging and heavy. Every now and again, he felt a tap on the neck as the wolf head swung around on his ear. While Geralt bathed, Jakier had slipped out of the tavern to find a store with a sterilized needle and a steady hand. Either Geralt didn’t know Jaskier’s ears weren’t pierced, or he’d assumed Jaskier would get the piercing done. Either way, he didn’t mind that much. With his short hair, the pendant dangled freely in open view. It wasn’t a courting gift. Just a thank you from Geralt. A very public, personal thank you. He leaned his head to the right, feeling the cool metal rest against his neck. The earring was different for him- it would be something he’d need to get used too. He walked back into the tavern, and spotted Geralt brooding in the corner once more. He smiled at him as they locked eyes, Jaskier turning his head to show off the earring. He tried to consciously not look at Geralt, reminding himself it wasn’t a courting gift, he didn’t need to see if Geralt liked him wearing it. He still stole a glance at the Witcher, Geralt’s expression unreadable, before turning to the stage ready to perform for another afternoon.


End file.
